I Can’t Remember
I can’t remember.
I can’t remember what I was doing a moment ago.
I can’t remember what time I went to sleep last night.
I couldn’t tell you what I ate for breakfast this morning.
Did I have cake for my birthday last year?
Did I drink whiskey or rum that one time I lost all my dimes?
Did I walk or did I run when I could only feel the sun?
I don’t remember if I told you I loved you;
Too hard to say.
How big of a tip did I pay?
Was I sick yesterday or today?
Is that it; maybe there’s some more?
Have I ever given to the poor?
What is this scar for?
What was my first memory?
Did my mother kiss me when I was first born?
Did I feel my child’s hand when I was knocking on death’s door?
I can’t remember what my soul has not forgot.
. . .
About the Creator
An audacious young writer.
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